


all these whispers that won't go away

by Arbitraryismymiddlename



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: F/M, Outer Banks, but you can read into it - Freeform, i made an ao3 account for this word vomit, ill stop with the tags now, jj is hot, jj needs love, just kiara and her feels, kie likes his hair, like its not really there, maybe pope/jj if you squint, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23798764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbitraryismymiddlename/pseuds/Arbitraryismymiddlename
Summary: She’s ready for an explosion if that’s what needs to happen.
Relationships: JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 254





	all these whispers that won't go away

**Author's Note:**

> So this is kinda how I could see things going in the weeks following the season finale. 
> 
> in my happy world, Pope and Kie realize they should stay friends and Pope is not an asshole about it so that's just my hot take and if you think it is unrealistic I am sorry because it probably is but I just am not vibing with Kie/Pope but i'm also not vibing with Pope being problematic. so.
> 
> Title is from the gorgeous song Just Asking by Aquilo.
> 
> please enjoy!!!!!

She’s never been inside his house. 

  
It was always John B’s place, or on a boat in the middle of the water, or her parents’ restaurant after hours. Basically anywhere the Pogues could do their shit in peace, which is why they never crashed at Pope’s, because his parents weren’t exactly fans of the Pogue life™. So it never meant anything that Kie hadn’t been inside JJ’s house.

  
Until now, sitting in her car that’s sporting a freshly smashed headlight, parked in JJ’s dirt driveway. Now she’s realizing that she has been inside Pope’s house, multiple times, even if only for a few minutes. And they’ve all been inside hers, because her dad’s disapproval of her gang of lowlifes is really just for show, and her mom thinks John B is about as precious as they come. But they, or at least she, have never been to JJ’s. By, but never to. 

  
It’s taking him too long to get the keys to the Phantom. 

  
Or maybe it isn’t. 

  
This treasure hunt bullshit has taught her a plethora of lessons, including that there’s an entire aspect of JJ Maybank’s life that he’s kept to himself for a long fucking time. 

  
And it’s making her feel like shit. 

  
He’s wiping moisture from his eyes when he does approach the car, and he’s really good at hiding it but now she knows to look, which reminds her that the signs have probably always been there and they (or maybe just Kie, who the fuck knows, maybe she’s the only shortsighted one here) just kept missing them. 

  
A few moments pass before she asks him how it went. He answers by showing her the keys. 

  
She wants to ask him if his dad was there. If he had to talk to him. If the two fought. How long his shitbag father has been worse than what pretty much everyone knows him to be – the alcoholic who can’t keep a job. 

  
The ride to the garage is silent. 

********** 

When John B recruited Kie to join his merry band of Pogue lifers, she’d been ecstatic and Pope had been a reserved shade of friendly, and JJ had been weird.

He just didn’t acknowledge her much, and not in the same carefree way he interacted with the others. Kie got the distinct impression that most of his questions were tests, but she ultimately passed, cause after a solid week of John B inviting her to literally everything the Pogues did, JJ started pulling her hair and using words like “us” and “we” without a warning in his tone. 

From there, JJ was all smiles. 

********** 

Rafe is grabbing at her and John B is being hunted by the entire sheriff’s department and then some, and Pope is being weird and apparently is in love with her, and all she can think is _Stop hitting him_. 

Because _that_ asshole is here, and he’s mad about his twenty-five grand, and he’s punching JJ, and Kie just wants him to fucking stop. _He’s been hurt enough_ , she wants to scream, but these morons don’t care and she needs to _think_ , needs to _do something_. 

  
Then Pope is there and she can honestly say that she has never been happier to see him. He almost kills Rafe and while she doesn’t appreciate the guy’s existence any more than the next Pogue, another murder accusation is literally the last thing any of them need right now, or ever, but she’ll settle for just right now if they can please fucking get out of here. 

  
JJ seems to agree, already shaking off the beating he just took, and again Kie feels a wave of something, not guilt, but just as suffocating. 

  
Focus. 

  
John B still needs them. 

********** 

John B told her once that he and JJ had been best friends since grade school. Third grade, to be exact. It was always clear that the two were close, throwing around “love yous” as if they were actual brothers, and JJ would crash at John B’s place for weeks at a time. 

  
Pope mentioned it now and then, how JJ never really opened up to anybody but John B. He didn’t sound jealous about it but there was a wistful edge. Like he wished he knew the secret. 

  
Kie kinda wished _she_ knew the secret, if she was honest with herself. 

  
JJ always seemed so much larger than life, afraid of nothing and no one, unadulterated crazy. To be able to cut through that, to get down to the real shit, was a strangely appealing thought. But she didn’t push, not really – she knew a dead end when she saw one. 

  
John B, it seemed, was the chosen one, and he took the privilege seriously. 

********** 

It’s the second time in one day that Kie is almost certain JJ’s fighting tears. 

  
John B is gone. Maybe forever. 

  
That shit hurts. No matter how justified. 

  
She knows she can’t fill the void. 

  
Maybe Pope can. 

  
(She doesn’t really think it can ever be the same.) 

  
Before the day is over, he’s sobbing. 

  
(They all are, but she’ll swear on everything holy that that boy’s sobs hurt as bad as anything.) 

********** 

John B might be dead, and that’s only her biggest problem. It’s the one that weighs her down every waking moment, and half her sleeping ones. The one that’s always at war with the hopeful voice saying that he could have survived, maybe even made it to Yucatan. (But that was JJ’s fantasy, wasn’t it? John B wanted… John B wanted Sarah. Well, maybe he has her. Maybe they’re alive and starting their happily ever after.)

  
And, of course, her other problems don’t suck any less in John B’s shadow. 

  
One is that, for whatever reason, she kissed Pope. Or he kissed her. They, mutually, leaned towards each other, and their lips met in the middle. And then the police apprehended them. And then Pope sort of held her hand, and Sheriff Shoupe dropped a bomb on them and all that mattered was that JJ was having an actual breakdown. 

  
Like, yelling and threatening law enforcement. Which, in the end, Shoupe is overlooking because of extreme emotional duress, but the fact that JJ is on probation and was aiding and abetting a chief murder suspect during an island-wide manhunt stands. 

  
So she’s got one boy asking her what they are now, what everything means, and another who’s always spacing out and should probably be way more stressed than he is about his upcoming meeting with Sheriff Shoupe to determine how to handle his “complicated situation”. 

  
Oh, also, her parents are this unbearable combination of pity and rage that’s going to drive her insane if they don’t pick one. Or maybe she’s just on edge. That’s probably it. 

“You should tell them about your dad.” 

  
When she says it, she has to physically restrain the apology that’s begging its way to the tip of her tongue. Someone needs to talk to him before the police do. 

  
JJ looks at her with this apathetic bullshit stare he’s adopted recently. Better than an outburst, Kie supposes, but she’s not sure that’s altogether true. 

  
“Why? Was he there?” His voice is flat. So horribly unlike the JJ from a few weeks ago, and all the years before then. 

  
“Look, JJ, I don’t know everything, or really anything, about you and your dad. But the whole town seems to know he’s a piece of work. It wouldn’t be hard for you to win Shoupe over. He’d believe you.” 

  
“So, if I get them to pity me enough, they’ll let me off easy?” JJ’s tone verges on spiteful and she’s just glad she’s squeezing an emotion out of him. She’s ready for an explosion if that’s what needs to happen. 

  
“I mean, it’s not ideal, but yeah. Pretty much. You have to play the cards you have right now,” she says, and she hates that she’s probably right. “You’re not a Kook. You have no money, you’re mixed up in some heavy shit, anything that proves you’re a victim in all this is worth a shot.” 

  
“I don’t need that DCS bullshit, Kie.” 

  
He’s not wrong, either. JJ in the system would be an absolute disaster. But so would going home. What does he have to lose, really, giving foster care a chance? 

  
There’s a stretch of silence. She almost brings up Pope, partially to change the subject and partially because she feels this inexplicable urge to explain to JJ that she doesn’t know what’s going on and she’s not dating Pope or anything like that and she really wishes JJ would say something about it so she could locate how he’s feeling about the weirdness. 

  
But then he says, “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ll owe restitution no matter what. So. Life’s pretty much guaranteed to suck ass.” 

  
That afternoon he gets a job at the local mechanic. It’s a long road to twenty-five thousand, but it’s something, and Kie is proud of him.

**********

Her parents offer to pay for a small memorial service for John B. It’s a nice thought, it really is. 

  
In the end, JJ builds a bonfire on the beach and Pope shares their blunt because he likes weed now, apparently, and all three reminisce about the good old days. 

  
For a night, all the weirdness and nerves are forgotten. 

********** 

The day after the bonfire-memorial-not-funeral, Pope shows up at her parents restaurant five minutes till her shift ends. 

  
She nods towards the back parking lot, throws her apron in with the net of dirty towels, and heads in the same direction. It’s going to be fine, she reminds herself, she’ll just be honest. It would help if any of her feelings were cohesive enough to be articulated, though. 

  
He’s sitting on the pavement, squinting into the sun.

  
“I’ve given you a lot of space, Kie,” he says, and he sounds a lot less frustrated than she expects him to. “And I guess, I just miss when things were normal. Like, now I have all these stupid questions and I analyze everything you say, like, way too hard, and I kind of hate it.” 

She nods, because it’s best to let Pope say his piece while his thoughts are still in order. 

  
He kicks at a sandy patch of gravel. She waits. 

  
“So I’ve been thinking, too. And I guess, it got me thinking, we kissed for two seconds, and like suddenly we need all this space to sort ourselves out, right? Like, most people either just laugh it off, or they, y’know, become a thing. But here we are, just being weird about everything. If we want to be a couple, then why are we dancing around each other like this?” 

  
A sharp inhale, a soft exhale, and she decides it’s time to at least try and fix this mess. Pope’s gaze is expectant. She gets to decide, to be or not to be. 

  
“You know I love you, right?” 

  
“Say no more,” he mutters, and she wants to protest, tell him she’s spent too long planning this speech so the least he can do is let her butcher it without interruption. But he’s laughing, or maybe it’s more of a chuckle. “It’s been wild, Kie. I don’t think any of us have been thinking straight since we found the Royal Merchant. It’s all good.” 

  
His words are casual, relaxed, but he looks hurt, or sad, or both. 

  
She kissed him when she shouldn’t have, because he wanted something more and she didn’t, but she kissed him anyway. And he knows it, and he’s being so fucking understanding about it, phrasing it like _they_ were being stupid and doing shit because of adrenaline and whatnot. 

  
“Pope.” It’s getting really irritating, this loss for words that keeps showing up for all the moments where she really needs to say the right thing. Pope is making this easy, he’s offering her a take-back, or something like it. Thank you doesn’t feel like the right thing to say, but nothing else does either. 

  
“It’s all good, Kie,” he repeats. 

  
“It’s really not,” she stresses, and Pope rolls his eyes and kicks again at that patch of sand, before throwing his hands in the air. 

  
“Okay, not to be an asshole or whatever, but can you just let this die while I still have way worse problems to keep me awake at night?” He’s starting to sound slightly pissed now, but the good natured kind of pissed, like Pope from before. 

  
“Alright, if you insist,” she manages to say in a light voice, and shoulder checks him because it feels like a bro thing to do, and he whacks her with his ballcap. It’s nice. 

  
(She’d bet money that he wasn’t in love with her to begin with, that maybe he’s a tiny bit relieved too.) 

********** 

Kie lists the hot tub and generator on ebay. Hard as she tries, she can’t be mad about it. Who is she to say that throwing away twenty-five grand that you stole from a drug dealer to pay restitution for sinking a Kook’s boat isn’t a perfectly proportionate response to an altercation with Luke Maybank? 

  
The bruises from that day haven’t completely faded. It’s over a week later that she sees him without a shirt again, and there’s still two large discolorations on his abdomen. They make her want to scream. 

  
She doesn’t. 

  
Instead, she asks him how things went with Shoupe. It couldn’t have gone too badly, since he’s not incarcerated, she figures. 

  
They’re sitting on the edge of the dock outside John B’s, and the sun makes JJ’s hair look almost yellow. He runs a hand through it before shrugging nonchalantly. “It was weird. They didn’t mention how I kind of, you know, attacked them that night. Shoupe said that since I’m on probation I obviously shouldn’t have been involved at all, but since I was he might as well ask me some questions.” 

“Questions about John B?” 

  
“Yeah, mostly. I don’t think I’m in any more trouble than I was before. Shoupe just interrogated me about Sheriff Peterkin and the Royal Merchant and asked me to basically recite everything John B has ever said about his father, about the Camerons, about ships…” he trails off, like he’s remembering something, but he stays silent. 

  
It’s good news. It is. It means that John B isn’t the only suspect anymore, that for once the authorities aren’t exclusively looking for the truth in the testimony of Kooks. It doesn’t make her any less angry, though – the damage has been done, John B and Sarah Cameron are still missing, and Ward is still living it up in his oceanside mansion with orders not to leave town. 

  
“Fuck this,” Kie mumbles, because it seems like the only appropriate thing to say. 

********** 

So, the thing is, JJ flirted with Kie almost incessantly during sophomore year. And yeah, she liked the attention. She liked feeling like someone that wild and reckless thought she was interesting or pretty or whatever it was he thought. 

  
But she always shot him down, for pretty much the same reason his advances were amusing and not annoying – he was crazy. Like, the kind of crazy that makes your mother nervous and reminds your father that his guns could use a good cleaning, we wouldn’t want it misfiring. 

  
It was exhilarating, sure, but it made her keenly aware that JJ didn’t care enough. Not about himself, his future, his wellbeing, the list goes on. And she concluded that he could probably never care enough about her, either. Not without letting her in, like John B in, and she didn’t think he was making any plans for that. 

  
It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She did, with her life, even. 

  
He just wasn’t offering anything serious, anything real, and she’d never seen the appeal of messing around and hoping shit didn’t get weird when the fun ended. 

  
It just seemed safer to cut off any more-than-friendly feelings before she got herself hurt. 

  
So she kept saying no. 

  
That school year, he didn’t offer anything serious. 

  
Now, he’s not offering anything at all. 

********** 

No one has heard from or about John B. Life must go on.

Ward Cameron, in the spirit of honoring the Routledge name, worked his magic behind the scenes and within a few days of That Night, got a statement released that he was not involved in the death or disappearance of Big John. The police statement continued to inform locals that, since there was no definitive evidence that John B didn’t kill Peterkin, the investigation was concluded. 

  
It’s bullshit, it’s a cop out, and everyone goes along with it peaceably. 

  
Things between Kook and Pogue don’t change much, at least, since intermingling has always been minimal. 

  
On the surface, everything is going fairly well. 

********** 

Pope tells her that he’s known JJ’s dad is abusive for a while, that during Kie’s estranged months at the Kook academy, things got pretty bad at the Maybank home, bad enough that there wasn’t really a way to hide the truth from Pope. 

  
John B had known, of course. 

  
Only Kie hadn’t. Not till this summer. Fuck, not till a few weeks ago. 

  
“Don’t feel bad,” Pope tries to help. “He didn’t want to tell me. I just kind of… found out. And even then, he still only talked to John B about it.” 

She still feels bad. And it makes sense that she’s a little guilty, sure, but she finds herself thinking about JJ and his misfortunes all the fucking time. She wishes she’d been more helpful then, that she knew how to help him now. That she could just get him to open up the way John B always could, without the preamble of a beating and a wasted twenty-five grand. 

Pope understands. He seems to feel the same way. 

If only JJ did, too. 

********** 

Eventually, JJ asks Kie about Pope.

  
She’d almost forgotten about that. Lately, a day feels like a week and a week feels like a lifetime. Keeping JJ up to date on her love life had sort of slipped her mind, since whenever he’s around she can only think about bruises and messy blond hair and a high-on-life smile that she misses so much it hurts.

  
She’s just worried about him. That’s all, that’s definitely all. 

  
“Kie?” 

Oh yeah, her and Pope. JJ’s finally asking. 

“Uh, we talked about it. We both kind of want a take-back, so, we’re just gonna leave all that as collateral from the Royal shitshow,” she summarizes. It really was that simple, once she stopped stressing the fuck out about Pope’s heart breaking into a million pieces (it didn’t) and the remaining Pogues falling apart (they didn’t). 

JJ grins at that, and her breath catches because it’s so gorgeous and she’s never gone this long without it. “I was wondering why I haven’t stumbled across you guys gettin’ it on.” 

“Shut up, JJ,” she grins back, hoping he does anything but. 

“No, seriously, Pope is a very sensual guy. When he finds someone, they’re gonna need to stay very physically available. For macking purposes.” 

“You’re actually disgusting. Please never speak of Pope’s sensuality, like, ever again.” 

The sound of JJ’s laugh plays on repeat in her mind for the rest of the night. It’s maybe one of her favorite sounds. 

********** 

JJ’s been staying with Pope a few nights a week, and crashing John B’s house others. But the day they’ve all been dreading arrives, and the bank repossesses the Routledge residence. 

And now JJ is pacing the empty dining room of Kie’s parents’ restaurant and she’s digging around in the kitchen for some kettle chips so she can feel a little less useless. 

“Why don’t you just tell Heyward how shitty your dad is? He wouldn’t turn you away,” Kie suggests when she emerges from the kitchen with chips and lemonade and a bottle of something clear that’s missing a label but smells alcoholic. She doesn’t really have time to finesse her way around the facts, because right now JJ is essentially homeless, and he’s not the type to appreciate her tiptoeing around the point anyway. 

“You know why, Kie. They’d report it. If the DCS takes me from my dad, it’s not like I’m going to get comfy with some Kooks down the road. They won’t fucking want me. My record looks like shit. I’m almost seventeen so it’s not like they can raise me right or what the fuck ever it is they try to do.” 

He’s right and she hates it, so she says, “It doesn’t have to go that way, right? I mean, older kids go into foster care all the time and sometimes it goes really well, I did a report on it for-”

“I’m not gonna be one of those miracle cases,” he cuts her off, “You fucking know that. Just look at me. They’d be expecting a problem child before they ever fill out the paperwork.” 

He’s still right and she still hates it. “What if Heyward didn’t report it?” 

She’s grasping at straws. There’s no way to find out what Heyward would do without asking him, which would mean telling him. 

Kie’s pretty certain her parents would report it. In theory, it’s the right thing to do. She’s known for a while that what’s right and wrong on paper doesn’t always translate well to reality. It almost never does, actually. 

“Yeah. That’s a big what if,” he grunts, rummaging through the snacks she’s still gripping against her chest and going straight for the indistinct alcoholic beverage. This close, he smells like saltwater and smoke. She definitely doesn’t breathe him in on purpose. 

“What are you going to do, JJ?” 

His answer is proceeded by a grimace and she knows she isn’t going to like the answer. “I’m going to my dad’s, I guess.” 

********** 

He says he has a plan. Pope says it hardly counts as a plan at all, and Kie agrees. 

JJ is going to go to his dad’s, and hope for the best. 

Great. Solid fucking plan. 

She wants to rip her hair out. No, she wants to rip his hair out because it’s getting really damn distracting especially now that it’s almost as long as John B kept his and it’s always this perfect mess and it’s getting a slightly darker tone underneath. 

“You can’t go back there, dude,” Pope tries. “Just, like, maybe I can convince my parents not to say anything to the police. They can be reasonable, at times. Even they can see you’re not a prime candidate for foster care.” 

“Thanks, Pope. That’s very helpful. Anyways, you guys don’t know everything, which I know is hard to believe sometimes, but it is still true,” and he’s going for sarcastic but hits a little too close to home for Kie, and suddenly her parents’ pontoon boat feels way too small for everything she’s feeling. 

“Maybe if you would talk to us that wouldn’t be the case, JJ!” She’s not yelling but she’s not speaking calmly either, and she wants to rewind and say something like _We’re here for you_ or _If you ever need anything, we’ve got you_ but she’s already said that for a couple fucking years. 

Pope jumps in, then, with “I know it’s always been John B, man, but John B isn’t here. You gotta talk to someone. And I mean, we’re your best friends. So. Yeah.” 

JJ’s turned away from them to stare at the water below, and Kie wishes she could see his face and gauge his reaction to the “tell us your feelings” ambush. When he does turn around, he’s got that look like maybe he was crying or maybe the sun is just really bright. She knows, though. She’s learning. 

“Okay,” he says. His voice is mostly even. Mostly. “You guys think that going back to my dad is the worst thing I can do, yeah? Well, I would rather get beat up every day and have the freedom to do whatever want, whenever I want, than live with strangers telling me where I can go and what I can do. Besides…” 

Pope’s hands are fists and Kie keeps opening her mouth and then shutting it before any sound makes it out and JJ is staring ahead without really looking at anything. They’re all just waiting, but she doesn’t know what for. 

“Besides?” Pope finally asks. 

“That day. When I had to go to my dad’s house and get the keys for the Phantom – fuck. The Phantom, guys!” JJ groans. “He might have realized I stole it. And there’s no way John B is bringing it back anytime soon.” 

********** 

So he almost told them something and then he remembered about the Phantom and everybody started freaking out till Pope remembered that JJ’s dad literally hasn’t touched the thing in ages, that they have time to figure something out. 

Unless he kept up with the manhunt, because everybody That Night knew that the Phantom was being steered into a tropical storm by two sixteen-year-olds. That piece of information somehow didn’t make the news, so if you weren’t there... there’s a chance you aren’t aware. And chances are, Luke was high as fuck or blackout drunk for the duration of that particular event.

Still, the not knowing is a bit nerve wracking. 

But JJ was going to tell them something, something about that day, something that Kie wanted to ask on the drive to the garage but didn’t. It’s driving her crazy. 

They sleep on the pontoon in the middle of the marsh because they can and because JJ’s going to stay with Pope the next few nights while they keep not deciding what to do and he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or get Pope’s parents suspicious and asking questions. 

Kie wants to fix this. She doesn’t think she can even make a difference. 

Pope is asleep before midnight, and JJ’s not saying anything but she can tell he’s awake because he’s too still. He tosses around like a madman while he sleeps. She wants to ask him. So, she does. 

“You started to tell us something. About that day. When you had to get the keys from your dad.” 

The crickets feel especially loud tonight. She wants to shush them, but that would be stupid. 

But then JJ interrupts the not-quite-silence. Kie wasn’t sure that he would.

“He’d taken a shit ton of pills. Some prescription he’s got. The bottle was almost empty. For a second I thought he had OD’d. It was so weird. I mean, you know I’ve wanted to kill him before but I’d never thought about what it would be like if he was dead. But he was breathing.” 

“Oh,” she whispers, because she can’t quite bring herself to say _Good_. “Did he wake up while you were inside?” She hopes he didn’t. 

“Yeah. He did.” There’s another pause so that the crickets can be heard. The fuckers. “He told me he loved me, Kie. And I said it back.” 

She wants to cry. Or laugh. No, definitely cry. Because that should just be a thing, between a father and a son. Love should be a given. An underlying understanding. A biological imperative, even. An instinct. 

And she wants to tell him that she loves him, fuck his dad for making it seem like a novelty, because it’s not. It’s fundamental. But instead she says, “It doesn’t make anything okay, JJ. You know that, right? He still owes you so much more than that.” 

A cloud decides to stop hiding the moon from view, and in the sudden light she can see tearstains running down to his jaw. He can probably see the same thing on her face. It’s something they can share. 

“Yeah. But I wonder if, maybe, things can be different. If I give it a chance. I want to try, for the first time in a long time.” 

She can’t tell him that he’s right, or that he’s wrong. Neither feels like the right thing to say. So she just reaches out, offers her warmth, and he settles into the space she creates for him between the coiled ropes they’re using for a mattress and the crescent moon above them. 

Maybe tomorrow she’ll tell him she loves him. 

End


End file.
